This is a story I am currently working on. For now...here is a preview piece (that is also the beginning). Enjoy!

DARTHO

The night was quite chilly. Tabitha did not notice, even though she was in beggar's rags. She was too frightened to take notice of the cold. She glanced behind her in fear. The stories she heard were true.
Suddenly, Tabitha bumped into a man in a black overcoat with a black top hat and wearing dark grey trousers.
She did not observe his clothing at the time, as she backed away, or tried to. The man had a hold of her shoulders.
"I say, steady on there, Miss!" stated the gentleman, but Tabitha hardly heard him.
She kicked the man in the shins, making him let go of her. Tabitha heard shouting behind her but she kept running. Ducking into a side-alley, Tabitha stopped as she reached a dead end. A shadow loomed over the nine-year-old girl. Turning around, gasping in short but heavy breaths, Tabitha fainted from fright, believing her persuer had caught up with her at last.

The whipping boy was snapping his long whip in a random direction. Ben knew if he did not look busy, eventually the whipping boy would pay extra attention to him and start whipping his whip in Ben’s direction.
Turning back to the wall Ben started to get to work, hefting another brick up to an empty space. Glancing into the hole, Ben felt sure there was a presence there, a form of darkness he was not familiar with. Again, the shiver ran up Ben’s spine as he carefully inserted the brick with a hurried motion to take his eyes off the enveloping darkness beyond the black wall.
After what seemed like hours of hard labor, Ben felt his body was numb from pain.
Despite his efforts, Ben was unable to keep up the pace much longer. He was just not able to keep up due to his small stature. Before he knew it the world was spinning around him, seeing blackness all around him as he fainted on his feet. He slumped but did not fall over until another boy had bumped into him. He had felt that but after collapsing to the dirty ground Ben was unable to comprehend anything.

Dazed with dizziness, Ben forced himself to open his eyes and saw a blurry vision above him. As he opened his eyes he heard a voice. It was a harsh voice. A sudden pain in his chest alerted Ben’s senses. He had been roughly prodded in the chest.

Without the energy to recoil from this, Ben just laid motionless as he heard the familiar lashing sound of the whipping boy’s whip close to him. Then the voice became clear. It was The Beagle’s voice. It seemed to be addressing the Whipping Boy.
“Enough of that now. The Supervisor wants to see him. And the rest of you...GET BACK TO WORK!!” enraged the voice of The Beagle, whom just a few minutes before had prodded the small boy that was on the floor with his cane in the chest.
The Whipping Boy nodded, somewhat half-heartedly and hefted up the small form of the semi-conscious Ben. The Whipping Boy placed Ben over his shoulder as the rest of the other boys went back to work.
It was a short walk but The Beagle was huffing and puffing from exhaustion. He hated to be called when an orphan fainted on their first day. But that was a work hazard. It did not happen often due to the strict routine that The Beagle had issued the Whipping Boy with. A lot of whipping was involved.
But if, like on this occasion, it did happen, then The Supervisor would scare the orphans to their senses.
After his minute rest, The Beagle continued down the black brick-layered hallway back to the main room with the girl orphans scrubbing the floors. Ignoring the young wenches that he towered over, The Beagle gingerly side-stepped past them. The Whipping Boy followed The Beagle’s lead until they reached the metal stairway.

Pointing with his cane upwards, The Beagle awaited as the Whipping Boy made his way up the staircase with the unconscious form of Ben upon his right shoulder. The Beagle glanced back and issued a short bark of command as a few girls stopped their scrubbing to have a quick glance at the new orphan’s fate. Glancing hurriedly back down, the girls resumed their work.
With a grunt of satisfaction, The Beagle turned and followed suit up the metal stairwell to the top of the metal gangway that was half-eclipsed in shadow. The Whipping Boy was awaiting him patiently. The Whipping Boy glanced nervously at the small shack that was to the right of him that was bathed in shadow. The storage shack to the left that was on the other side of the metal walkway seemed more inviting but the Whipping Boy knew he could not go that way or he would feel The Beagle’s wrath.
Moving aside at the top of the steel staircase, The Whipping Boy moved towards the shadowed shack and deftly opened the black painted door with a shaking hand, his other hand supporting the small squirt of an orphan upon his shoulder.
As the door opened there seemed to be a breath of mouldy air as if something monstrous had let out a giant sigh. The room was pitch black and the Whipping Boy gulped with fear, gently moving aside as The Beagle finally appeared behind him and nudged him to the side with his cane.

“What is it?” asked a soft yet menacing voice from the blackened room. “Why do you dare to spoil my slumber?”
The Beagle licked his dry lips with almost a sense of dread. He nervously twisted the top of his cane with his sweaty hands.
“I bring an orphan...” started The Beagle with a slightly tense tone in his voice until the voice from the void of darkness halted him.
“Orphans...” came a guttural growl from the voice in the dark room. It seemed almost bored. “Very well, leave it here and leave.”
The Beagle nodded and turned to the Whipping Boy, standing aside to allow the Whipping Boy to place the unconscious form of Ben upon the ground within the dark room.
With a fearful look in his eyes, the Whipping Boy exited the darkness, The Beagle shutting the door with alarming speed and the two hastened a retreat back to their stations within The Workhouse.

Ben finally regained consciousness but for a slight moment he almost thought he hadn’t. Wherever he was he was in eternal darkness. Blinking his eyes with effort, Ben opened them again and realized he was indeed awake. But what happened next made him wish he wasn’t. There was sudden excruciating pain in every part of his body. Not sure what or who was causing him to feel this, Ben felt really scared for one of the few moments in his young life. Tears swept away his dirt-stained cheeks as he cried almost freely. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the pain had stopped.

Suddenly, there was a voice in the darkness. It was one he was unfamiliar with, a low growl of a voice, almost hauntingly beast-like.
“Stand up,” ordered the voice in a commanding manner.
With effort, Ben winced as he tried to stand up but found the strain on his body too great. He was still sore and tired but managed to sit himself up as he found his head was near a black wall. Glancing around with tired and tear strained eyes Ben could still see nothing but blackness. It gave him the Chill he felt earlier when he had gazed at the hole in the black wall.
A sudden throaty laugh could be heard around Ben. He didn’t like his situation and his surroundings.
“Do not try to resist me. You are too weak and pathetic,” uttered the voice after the laughter died down.Ben had no intention of resisting. He was too tired to fight, mentally or physically. But the Sting of the remark ignited a fire in Ben’s eyes that seemed to announce that no matter how hard he would be beaten down Ben would not take it for very much longer.
A silent hiss escaped his mouth as he was about to speak but the sudden pain came back and this time Ben felt a stony cold hand around his throat. The hand gripped his neck fiercely, the claw-like nails pricking barely into Ben’s skin like the tips of very sharp needles.
“Do not speak unless I tell you, urchin!” threatened the voice as Ben let out a whimper from the nails digging into his neck.

But despite this threat, the grip on his neck began to slacken as if the creature or whatever it was in the darkness began to contemplate with itself.
“But, there is no use in you dying...yet,” the figure said, letting go of Ben’s throat.
The claws retracted from Ben’s neck, leaving behind tiny pinholes where a small droplet of blood escaped from each one.Ben knew he was Lucky to be alive, he could practically feel the bruise on his neck starting to form and throb with pain. But in this place, Ben was getting used to the feeling.
“I have decided to let you live, puny weakling. Not out of kindness but of lack of resources. Now, get out of my sight before I change my mind,” hissed the creature in a shadowed whisper.Ben gulped and stared at the enveloping darkness ahead of him. He could still see nothing, despite the fact his eyes had grown accustomed to the vast blackness.
“W...w...who are you?” Ben rasped out, using as much energy left of his available to utter these simple words.
For a moment silence was all Ben heard. Then, the sour note of an intake of breath reached Ben’s ears.
“I? I am not a “who”. More of a “what”. But to answer you simply, I am the darkness you fear to dread. I am the blackness of your inner soul. Around here I am known as “The Supervisor”. But my name, to you would send shivers up your spine. My true name is...Dartho.”

Dartho. It is the name of a species that was a Nightmare to the children of the planet Lighnia. It was less of a child-like fantasy though. These monsters of the shadow are very real. Bred on a nearby Shadow Planet on the dark side of the Luna Mortis, the High Moon of the planet Lighnia, the beast-like shadowy forms of pure Darkness made it their ambition to spread Darkness to any light-giving source. Like the planet Lighnia and its inhabitants. And apparently they succeeded in enveloping the light of Lighnia and destroyed nearly all the creatures upon the planet’s surface. But one Child survived, jettisoned from her home into the Dark Void that acted as a time portal to another dimension. But, she was followed by one of the shadows. Not given individual names, the shadows named themselves singularly after their species, Dartho. But the Lighnia Child had an individual name. Her name was given to her by her foster father, The Illustrator, Tabitha. But all the while the Dartho bided his time, going after orphans in his beast-like form until he found the right one.

“But, where do you come in?” asked Tabitha as this information was transferred to her mind via another touch to her forehead by the dapper gentleman’s hand.
The man had released her forehead gently, putting his glove back on silently as he left the question go unanswered, as if hovering in the air.

Tabitha started getting nervous again. She felt herself get uneasy at this man with all the information into her, until recently, secret life even she had not known.
“It is best left unsaid. But know this Tabitha, I am a friend,” remarked the man softly in a light voice that was filled with no emotion apart from pain and suffering.
Tabitha pondered this response for a few seconds which seemed an eternity to Tabitha. Doubts and second thoughts sprang within the young girl’s mind. Yet she trusted the man because his voice was sincere. Still thinking and taking it all in, Tabitha simply gave a slight nod of her head before another sudden thought had entered her mind. It was her shoulder, the one the creature had scratched and was now dressed with coarse cotton padding with bandages as a support for the cotton. Up until the man had touched her forehead, her shoulder had throbbed with a dull ache of pain. But now it was not hurting at all. She slowly moved her arm ever so slightly, the one that was scratched, and found to her surprise that there was no pain at all.
The gentleman seemed to notice Tabitha’s surprised expression on her face.
“There is no need for surprise. Your arm is healed once you regained your true memory. Your body fused with your old mind to enable you to heal yourself,” said the man.

Tabitha was still in awe of her now healed shoulder that at first she did not pay heed to what the man was saying to her. But after he finished his sentence she grew resolved and glanced at him sharply.
“Who are you? And how do you know these things?” Tabitha asked seriously, her voice with a hard edge she had not known since Sammy and she were with the dead Illustrator’s body.
The young man seemed to sigh but breathed in instead. He knew he needed to answer her. It was inevitable.
“My name known on this planet is Collet. Edward Collet. I am like you...but of a different kind. My race had long been taken by the Dartho eons ago. I had heard tales of your race being the only kind able to stand up against the Dartho. I know your race from a dusty tome. These humans call it a “book”. But of course you know about that. You see Tabitha, the one you knew as The Illustrator was an eccentric human with a mania about other worlds and the stars. He stumbled upon the truth, much like he stumbled upon you when you crash-landed into this dismal place. He took you in and looked after you like you were his own child but he also kept hold of your “necklace” until he thought you were ready to know the truth. I encouraged this, in case my fears were justified. The orphans gone missing awoke my suspicions but The Illustrator dying convinced me I was right.”